


If That Bullet Ever Comes

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bearded Chris Evans, M/M, Protective!Chris, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14533992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: This was the goddamn problem with Sebastian, with this job: that Sebastian said shit like that, touched Chris like it was his right, and that Chris never, ever wanted to push him away.





	If That Bullet Ever Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Protectiveness (physically or verbally defending someone; caretaking in general; bodyguard scenarios)

“I understand your concern, Evans, but you’re taking this way too seriously.”

“It’s a death threat, Mr. Stan. I think that’s the definition of serious.”

The kid rolled his eyes-–a full-on production that somehow involved his shoulders, his face, and his hips-–and threw himself into the nearest armchair, the crushed velvet one the color of cinquanti. “I get ‘em all the time.”

Chris wanted to grab Sebastian, shake him, rattle some sense into his beautiful face. “Really? You eating them or something? 'Cause this is the first one I’ve seen.”

A huff. “You’ve only been here three months. Did you even bother reading Mackie’s files?”

“I read them.” Why the hell was he getting defensive? He was in the right here, damn it. It was his job to be. “There was zero mention of anything like this.” He shook out the paper in his hand, a printout of an email that had somehow found a way to Sebastian’s private account. “It’s pretty fucking specific. You want me to read the part about your limbs being severed again? Or maybe the part about your balls being--”

“Stop it,” Sebastian snapped. “That asshole isn’t going to intimidate me, Evans, and neither are you.”

“We should cancel the press tour,” Chris said again, firm.

“No.”

“The stop in Montreal, then. The rest of the cast can pick up the-–”

“ _No_.” The kid glared daggers at him. “Jesus fuck, how many times do I have to tell you? This is my call, not yours.”

Chris bit back a snarl. “Your safety is my responsibility. That’s what you pay me for, _sir_.”

“No,” Sebastian said again, “I pay you to take a bullet for me, if that bullet ever comes. Until then, it’s my life. My career. My choice.”

There was a knock on the door, tentative, and it opened a crack, let a gentle female voice in. “Sebastian? The guy from  _Entertainment Weekly_  is waiting.”

The kid sprang from the chair, the insouciance he liked to wear in front of Chris falling away. “‘K, Pom. Did you open the white I left in the fridge?”

“He’s already half a glass in, boss.”

Sebastian laughed. “Give me five. And make sure his glass doesn’t run empty.”

The door closed with a soft sock.

“What the fuck,” Chris said. “Again? What did I tell you about drinking with journalists?”

Sebastian grinned at him, a bright smile that would’ve killed them on Instagram. Another bane of Chris’ existence. “I think you told me, hmmm, something I’m choosing to forget.” He took a step too close. “But you don’t have to worry. We won’t be leaving the house. We’ll be right here, out by the pool, probably, if you want to come baby-sit.”

“Sebastian–”

He reached up, that beautiful bastard, and spread his palms over Chris’ chest, hooked his thumbs under Chris’ lapels.  “I need you to keep an eye on me, Evans. Who knows what I might do if you aren’t there to be my better angel.”

This was the goddamn problem with Sebastian, with this job: that Sebastian said shit like that, touched Chris like it was his right, and that Chris never, ever wanted to push him away.

He dropped the print out and reached for Sebastian’s hips, preened a little at the hum that ran through the kid's body when he did. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he said. “I deserve better than that.”

Sebastian tipped up and rubbed his mouth against Chris’ cheek, his beard. Whispered: “Bullshit. You love it when I tease you.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, “but only when I know I can make you pay up.”


End file.
